Once Alone, Always Alone
Prologue
One picture. That's all I have. One tangible memory of the time when they owned me. No, not "they" as in my parents; they tried as hard as they could to own me, but they couldn't. My father is dead; my mother doesn't much exist anymore, at least not the way I knew her. Everyone else – that's who I'm talking about. From the beginning, they'd made me into their pet – pushing me around, coercing me to do everything for them that they didn't want to do, laughing behind my back every step of the way. The only thing I regret is letting them use me the way they did. Well, they can't do it anymore. Nobody can break you down if you don't have an identity.
I suppose I keep this photograph because it's part of my past. As much as it's a past I would like to renounce from my memory, it certainly helps to remind me not to fall for the same scheme all over again. That's something I've never been good at – standing up to people. Even those whom I knew were bad news after they revealed their true intentions to me – Eric Cartman and Kyle Broflovski, for instance – still managed to intimidate me into submission. I remember when I was a kid, maybe nine years old or so, I tried getting back at them by inventing a new character for myself. "Professor Chaos," I called him. He was my alter-ego, something into which I could channel all my pain and frustration. Of course, I never ended up actually doing much to fight back; that was nothing more than a childhood fantasy. I've since learned the real way to defend myself against them and anyone else, and for me, that's to fade away into the background. I was destined to disappear from people all my life; might as well accept it, right?
It disturbs me how happy I look in this picture. Two girls on either side of me, giggling and doing my hair up in little stubby pigtails with their hair-ties. One of the girls had long raven hair under a pink headband; the other had a mass of blond curls pulled back in a ponytail. There I was in the middle with a dumb grin stretched across my face, probably thinking they were laughing right along with me. They may have been, but who knew for sure? Only they did, and they sure as hell weren't going to tell me if they weren't. They liked seeing me make an ass out of myself. Everyone did, don't you know.
There are people in the background worth mentioning as well.. I guess. Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, and Eric Cartman were the kids sitting on the couch behind us, drinking sodas and probably watching a movie or something. Those guys were the perfect example of the fake attitude that the world seemed to love to exhibit around me – friendly and sweet on the surface, but a bunch of no-good, heartless assholes underneath. Even now, it pains me to look at any of their faces, knowing how drastically they changed my life in a matter of minutes. It's been two years exactly since that horrible night, but if any one of them apologized to my face this minute, I still wouldn't forgive them. I have a hard enough time categorizing them as human beings.
Someone's sitting outside the house, and you can see them through the window above the couch. At least, you can sort of see them; all there is is the top part of an orange hood and a hand holding a cigarette. Though his face isn't visible, I can still instantly recall the name: Kenny McCormick. He was one of the more decent ones of the crowd. Though I didn't get to hang out with him as much as the others, he was the one who seemed the most genuine and seemed to understand me the most. If I ever had to see anyone from that God-forsaken town again, it might be him. Maybe. That is, if he hasn't gone the route of his bastard friends by now.
Well, those days are over, and I don't need to worry about those particular people ever again. I haven't taken even the slightest glance back in the direction of South Park, Colorado, and I don't feel like doing so ever. The outside world is my home, yet the people living in it aren't my family. Actually, nobody is family to me, but that's what I'm used to by now. I'm a loner, and until some bright, shining day comes when I'm able to trust humanity again, that's what I'll always be.